


Love Casts Long Shadows

by indigo_inks



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e03 Betrayer Moon, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Parent/Child Incest, implied monsterfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_inks/pseuds/indigo_inks
Summary: She says she doesn't remember.
Relationships: Foltest/Striga | Princess of Temeria
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: RelationShipping 2020





	Love Casts Long Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soarc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soarc/gifts).



She says she doesn’t remember.

Of course, what his daughter says can be difficult for Foltest to understand, and not even the best teachers have been able to completely undo the damage the dark years have wrought. Her speech is still that of a child’s, even if her body is not.

“What was it like…before?” he asks her. He long ago lost count of how many times he’s asked her this before.

“I no…” She stops, regroups, and tries again. A fine line forms between her brows – a sign of intense concentration – because she does not wish to displease him with a poorly-formed reply. “I _don’t_ remember, father.”

He will not press her. She is too fragile and far, far too precious, and he fears she might break from the strain. “Very well. Thank you for your answer.”

Foltest tells himself it’s better this way, to leave the dark years behind. His daughter is a princess, and she is his sole heir. Someday, she will be the Queen of Temeria. If she doesn’t remember, then she has nothing she might wish dearly to forget.

If only he possessed that same luxury.

The striga did not come for him first. It took crypt guards and miners. Then it took miners’ sons and a Witcher. Finally, one night while he lay abed, too tormented to sleep and wishing for things which could not be, it came for Foltest himself.

He knew who the abomination was, and he was resigned to his fate. He closed his eyes and waited. Better that the daughter devour the father, he thought, like the parents had once succumbed to lust and devoured each other. Take his liver and his heart; his heart already belonged to her…

But the striga didn’t want his heart. Its razor-sharp claws did not slash him; its mouth with its teeth and its reeking breath did not bite him. No, it wanted something else, something that was…something that was…

Foltest shudders. He can’t forget. At least he can _pretend_ not to remember.

“Father, sleep?” asks his daughter. She is smiling. Her sweet, round face shines with hope. “Sleep together?”

He will not refuse her. He can’t refuse her. “Very well. Let us to bed.”

Her soft, warm body curls close to his beneath the covers. Her breath tickles his throat; her ripe, apple breasts rest against his sternum. He strokes the silken fall of her honey-blonde hair as their legs tangle and she moistens his thigh…

He can’t help himself. He is so hard, and she is so yielding. Bliss. Her mouth gapes with wordless ecstasy as he enters her, pushes past the initial resistances, bottoms out. She takes her father into her like she is made for him, and they undulate together in perfect erotic unity.

The striga knew him like this, those nights during the dark years that she slipped into his chambers. That abomination took him like this, and it was just as hot and wet and tight as she is now. The memory causes him to shudder, tense, and spill.

“I love you, father,” says his daughter possessively, while they are still joined.

She says she doesn’t remember, but Foltest can’t quite bring himself to believe her.


End file.
